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Freedom

 What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he 
Whose father's father through long lives have reigned 
O'er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. 
Though from his youth to age he roam as free 
As winds, he dreams not freedom's ecstacy. 
But he whose birth was in a nation chained 
For centuries; where every breath was drained 
From breasts of slaves which knew not there could be 
Such thing as freedom,--he beholds the light 
Burst, dazzling; though the glory blind his sight 
He knows the joy. Fools laugh because he reels 
And weilds confusedly his infant will; 
The wise man watching with a heart that feels 
Says: "Cure for freedom's harms is freedom still."

Poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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